Awakening
by Sirius7
Summary: Karigan wakes up – and the consequences of certain actions become painfully clear.  The fight's not over, yet.  Warning - this story has MAJOR spoilers for Blackveil.
1. Prologue

Awakening

A Green Rider tale

By: Sirius

Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters are mine; they all belong to the incomparable Kristen Britain. I'm just playing with them, as _Blackveil_ has left me massively conflicted and I have to do something.

Rating: T, for now

Summary: Karigan wakes up – and the consequences of certain actions become painfully clear. The fight's not over, yet.

Author's Note: Warning. This story has _**MAJOR**_ spoilers for _Blackveil. _If you have not yet read the book and don't want to be spoiled, _**DON'T**_ read this story.

Author's Note 2: Yes, I'm still working on my other fics, but I had to get at least some of this out of my system before my head imploded. And yes, the Prologue is short. The following Chapters will be _much_ longer.

Prologue:

It was Agemon who heard the sounds first. Despite the damage done to his body during his translation of Theanduris Silverwood's book – and ignoring the fact that the menders still had him on restricted duty – he was driven to oversee the work of the other caretakers. The meager light of the tombs and the moving shadows that were the Black Shield tomb guards were familiar and reassuring sights to him, and he wasn't frightened by unusual sounds. Ghosts were friends – more often than not – to the caretakers of the tombs; it was the _living_ that unsettled them. What the Chief Caretaker heard now were sounds made not by the dead... but by one who was trying to avoid joining them. Quickening his steps, he stumbled on unsteady feet to the High King's tomb, and the sarcophagus next to it of Sacoridia's new queen. It was from there that the muffled sounds came, warning him of a living presence inside a tomb that was as yet meant to be empty.

The sounds had faded by the time he fully realized what was happening. It took only a nervous whistle to draw three tomb guards to his side, who helped him ease the cover stone bearing Queen Estora's likeness off of the sarcophagus. A bright glow filled the tombs and Agemon had to blink away the tears caused by the light, shrinking away in shock when he realized that the bloodied, unconscious person bathed in the strange light was the Rider that had been in the tombs twice before – once on the King's orders, and once as a Weapon. Agemon was determined that she would not be allowed to leave a third time. She had trespassed in the tombs, and in the tombs she would stay. A deeper look at the Rider revealed that he might not have to argue with her about it, though; given her injuries, he wasn't sure how long the Rider would be for this world in any case.

One of the tomb guards let slip a gasp, though Agemon didn't know which, and all three moved swiftly to remove the Rider from the sarcophagus, their intention obviously to get her to the mender. "Black Shields," he said, speaking for the first time in recent days, "if the Rider lives... she stays. Third time this Green has been here; she doesn't leave again." With that, the Chief Caretaker of the tombs turned away, and went back to his rounds, leaving the Weapons to care for the Rider. _Must clean the Queen's tomb later, since the Rider bled all over it... _

TBC...


	2. Chapter 1

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating and Author's Notes.

_GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR_

Chapter One:

Arms Master Drent – quietly elevated to Chief of the Weapons, in the wake of Colin Dovekey's betrayal – spared a thought for his only two Rider pupils. Beryl Spencer, he knew, was once more within the castle walls, and had proved invaluable in eradicating Richmont Spane's _stench_ from the building. Perhaps there would be time for a quick lesson or two before she was sent on her next mission. Regarding the other, Karigan G'ladheon, he held little hope. Blackveil was not kind to those who ventured beyond the D'Yer Wall, and though she'd survived many things lesser individuals could not, he knew there was only so much any one person could do. There were only so many steps a person could take before strength finally failed... and though he _did_ hope to see that student of his again, he did not truly _believe_ he would. Knowing her feelings for their King, he thought perhaps it might be kinder for her if she did _not _return, though the King would suffer for it. He knew the girl, knew that she would serve King and Queen faithfully for so long as she was a Rider – indeed, for so long as she _lived_ – but that service would not lessen the pain. All these thoughts passed through the Weapon's mind, and there they would remain, unsaid. If she did not return, there was no point in dwelling on things that might have been, and his own counsel would he keep on what should and should not have happened in this castle in recent days.

The King was kind to him, and did not call for his counsel often, knowing Drent enjoyed his teaching duties, all appearances to the contrary. At the moment, however, he _was_ attending to his King directly, in the summer throne room where Prince Amilton and the Eletian Shawdell had attempted to overthrow the King, three years before. Rider G'ladheon had saved the day then, as well, and Drent had noticed that in tales of that day, as with all other adventures – when she could be coaxed to tell them at all – she emphasized the roles of others far above her own. If he wished to know how critical she had been in any given situation, he had only to listen for what she _didn't _say.

And it was there, in the throne room, that Brienne found him. He knew when she approached, for though she was silence personified, he had trained her... and she had made no attempt to hide her presence from _him_. The surprise that swept through him at her words was – largely – a pleasant feeling, and with his own whispered word to the King, he was on his way to the tombs. Under normal circumstances, he showed every respect to Agemon as the Chief Caretaker of the Tombs... but nothing in regards to Karigan G'ladheon had _ever _been normal. There was nothing in this world or the next that would convince him that the tombs were the best place for her, tradition and rules be damned. She dealt too much with death as it was; to be surrounded by it on all sides would leech the spirit and life out of her entirely. And that, he suspected, may do more harm to the King than her death – emotionally, if not physically. Sacoridia would suffer for it, as well. She needed the sun and the wind in her face... and Sacoridia needed _her_, though it would be a cold day in all the Hells before Drent would admit that to anyone other than himself.

A quick word to Brienne had her detouring past Weapon quarters for a change of her own clothes for the Rider... and a black silk band for the Rider's saber. They planned to do the same now as they had once before, dress the Rider in Weapon colors and call her one of their own. To himself, Drent acknowledged that no truer word had been spoken, for Karigan G'ladheon _was_ a Weapon of the Black Shield in all save name; certainly, no one could doubt her loyalty and devotion to the King, or her willingness to sacrifice her life for his. She'd come close enough to doing precisely that on more than a few occasions.

Drent had not told the King where he was going, or that Sacoridia's only Knight was at the root of the problem he intended to correct; he wished to see for himself that the Rider in the tombs truly _was_ his student before reporting the matter to the King. That, and at the moment, there was not very _much_ to report. He had not yet seen her, or assessed her condition; though Brienne had informed him that Rider G'ladheon was unconscious and bloodied, she'd not seen clearly how much of the blood was actually Karigan's. That in itself concerned Drent, for with Master Mender Destarion disgraced and sent from the castle, the Arms Master was not certain who among the menders could be trusted, aside from the mender who was also a Rider, Ben Simeon. As for Rider Simeon, only the gods themselves knew if he would be up to the task; he was still recovering from his struggle to heal the King in the wake of the recent assassination attempt... an attempt that had come far too close to succeeding for Drent's peace of mind. If Karigan's injuries were serious, there was a chance that Rider Simeon would not have strength enough remaining to aid her. _Captain Mapstone was speaking nothing but truth when she said more Riders of his talent are needed; menders will be a treasured asset in coming days, I think... menders backed by magic even more so._

As he slid through the tombs at Brienne's side, and made his way to the menders and death surgeons that resided in those halls, only his training kept his mind from wandering over past happenings there. Only that same training kept him from loosing a startled gasp at his first true sight of his mangled, half-bandaged student. Even unconscious, she held tightly to a moonstone – _where did she get another one? –_ and the glow it cast mercilessly illuminated every injury. There were many, perhaps _too _many, even if he counted only those visible through the near-shredded remains of her uniform. He could not tell what had been cut by the same weapons that wounded her, and what had fallen victim to the menders' knives as they tried to _get_ to her wounds; at the moment, the state of her uniform mattered less than nothing in comparison to what the fabric had covered. Karigan had apparently run afoul of some nasty thorned plant; her leg was evidence enough of that. The bones of her right wrist – _her dominant sword-arm, damn it all_ – had obviously been crushed, and would require a true healing if she were to have any hope of doing much of anything with it again. Neither of those were a true surprise, ably explained by battle and Blackveil. What he could make no sense of at all were the dozens of times she appeared to have been pierced by shards of glass. Some wounds were shallow, and some a great deal deeper. The menders here had done what they could, but some of the glass could not be removed without a mender of greater skill present; she would bleed to death where she lay if they tried. That one fact made the decision for Drent. They needed Rider Simeon; no other mender would do if there was to be any hope of keeping Karigan alive.

_GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR_

Sgt. Brienne Quinn – having finally seen Karigan's wounds – was of the same mind as Drent insofar as that she knew Rider Simeon was absolutely necessary. At the same time, she was also aware that they could not bring him to the tombs, and – now knowledgeable as to the _full_ extent of Karigan's injuries – they could not put Karigan in Weapon black to move her from them; there was too great a chance of dislodging the glass shards, or opening other wounds as yet only barely bandaged.

They would have to remove her from the tombs as she was, Agemon's protests be damned. Brienne locked eyes with each Weapon in turn, her mentor and superior last among them, and found nothing but determined agreement in each gaze. Green Rider Karigan G'ladheon, Knight of the Realm and heroine – though largely unknown – to her people, would not stay here.

There were passageways within the castle that would allow them to travel directly to the Mending Wing without the hindrance of watching eyes, and those were the paths they would take... quieter, quicker, so long as they could avoid – or ignore – Agemon. Brienne feared he might be drawn to the light of the moonstone in Karigan's hand, but had no wish to remove something that seemed a source of strength. With a soft word, and eyes that she suspected were dancing with a bit of mischief even in these serious circumstances, she summoned three of the younger tomb guards and instructed them to distract and delay the Chief Caretaker. She had a feeling it would be less trouble to go around him than to convince him they had every right to leave with Rider G'ladheon. She was, after all, a Weapon in all save name... unfortunately, it seemed that the name itself meant more to Agemon – at least in this instance – than the spirit of the matter.

Once the younger guards set out on their 'mission,' Brienne and Drent assigned the remaining two to stand watch along the route. They took up Karigan's stretcher themselves, bearing it gently between them and walking on soft feet; it would not do to jar her now. Brienne had seen clearly the concerned glances Drent had cast on his student, and suspected that however much she prayed to the gods this day, his prayers numbered just as many.

TBC...


End file.
